


Lazarus Warming

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-20
Updated: 2009-03-20
Packaged: 2019-02-02 02:47:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12718083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: The SGC is in an uproar in the aftermath of the entity, but Jack's main concern is for Sara.





	Lazarus Warming

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Many thanks to Mare and Barb for the beta. Written for the Second Lives challenge at phoenix_gate.livejournal.com.

Stepping through the stargate onto the ramp at the SGC was a relief on so many levels that Jack wasn't sure he could count them all. The collar and underarms of his shirt were damp with sweat from the heat that had saturated the air and radiated up from the ground. His sunglasses had been no match for the unrelenting sun glaring off of neon yellow sand and shards of blue crystal that stretched to the horizon. No matter how he moved, blinding flashes glinted off the crystals into his eyes. He wanted to think it was eyestrain alone that made his head throb, not spending half an hour interrogating an alien doppelganger.

Jack stopped halfway down the metal grating, not sure what to do with his hands since he had no weapon to carry. He took off his ball cap and shades and tried to look non-threatening so the nice airmen with all the firepower pointed his way wouldn't go pulling any triggers. His team stood in a little cluster in the center of the room. Sam held a small device; Teal'c stood at parade rest; and Daniel hunched into himself, hands firmly tucked under his armpits. 

They had been lucky this time. The alien had meant well, but things had nearly gone to hell in a handcart anyway. Something about the radiation on Earth conflicted with that of the crystalline structure of the entity causing an energy build up that could have turned into an explosion that leveled half the city.

"I'm sorry, Colonel, but we just have to be sure you're, um, you this time." Sam stepped up the ramp, an apologetic smile on her face and aimed the gadget at him. "This would detect the signature energy if you were actually one of the crystal entities pretending to be you." She looked at the read out and continued, obviously flustered. "Which it doesn't, of course. Because you're not. This time."

"Too bad you didn't try that a few hours ago, Captain Carter." 

It was unfair to snap at her, but Jack didn't care. That thing had come through the gate with his team, made it all the way out of the facility and spent the day with his wife. Okay, she was his ex-wife, but it made no difference to him. They may have been divorced in the eyes of the law, but as far as Jack was concerned he would always be responsible for Sara's welfare. To that end, he had just spent the last thirty minutes questioning that thing, entity, _whatever_ \- about exactly what it had done and said during the day it had spent on Earth with Sara. He was in no mood to be polite.

"Jack." 

At Daniel's gentle tone, equal parts sympathetic and reproachful, Jack subsided. 

Sam looked up at the control room where General Hammond awaited the verdict. Flashing a thumbs up, she said, "This is the real Colonel O'Neill, sir." 

Hammond stepped to the microphone. "Thank you, Captain. Stand down, everyone." 

The tension in the gate room eased as the airmen aimed their weapons down, flicking safeties back on. 

"If I may, General, I'd like to debrief immediately." 

Immediately was one hell of an understatement. Jack wanted to get out of here right now. The compulsion to get to Sara was like an itch crawling over his skin that he tamped down as best he could. 

"Very well, Colonel. My office. Now." Hammond left the control room and headed to the level above. 

Jack hurried up the stairs, shrugging out of his jacket on the way. As hot as it had been on the other side of the gate, he had been reluctant to remove it since it was the only protection he had had from the blazing sun. The fresh air of the SGC slid across his body, cooling his flesh and his temper notched down a couple of degrees as well. He entered Hammond's office just as the man himself was getting seated behind his desk. Jack shut the door, dropped his jacket on a chair, then stood at attention in front of the General's desk. 

"Sir, much of what transpired today between the entity and my wife was conversation of a highly personal nature. I'll give you the full details orally, but I would prefer to keep it out of the official report." 

"At ease, Jack." 

Jack noted the use of his first name. Good. Hammond was willing to keep this informal. 

"Thank you, sir." Jack took a deep breath, steeling himself to divulge the intensely private and painful subject. "The entity took more than my form, sir. It picked up my...history and my emotions and it-" 

Hammond held up his hand, halting the report. "While you were off-world, I spoke briefly with Mrs. O'Neill. I'm aware of the nature of her contact with the entity. I will trust your judgment on what to include in the report, but you will submit it to me for review and possible revision before I'll sign off on it. I want that preliminary report before you leave the base today." 

"Thank you, General." Jack's shoulders sagged in relief. 

There was already far more in his personnel file about his son's death and subsequent events than Jack ever wanted anyone to know. To have all of that out in the mission files for anyone with the right clearance to read would feel like a violation. As grateful as he was for Hammond's understanding, there was something else he wanted, even if it was pushing his luck to ask for it.

"Sir, as much as I appreciate your latitude on this, there is one more favor I need to ask of you."

Folding his hands together on the desk top, Hammond leaned back in his chair. His glance swept over Jack, as though he was speculating as to what the request might be. 

"You may ask." Hammond emphasized the last word.

"I know that in a situation like this, with civilians involved and a possible breach of security, the government will send out the suits in dark glasses with a cover story and a handful of non-disclosure agreements to be signed." A tiny muscle at the base of Jack's left thumb started twitching the way it did sometimes under stress. Casually, he clasped his hands behind his back to hide it. "I'd like to be the one to take those documents to Sara."

Frowning, Hammond thought for a moment before replying. "I don't think I can allow that, Jack. Those forms need to be witnessed by a disinterested party and as her former husband you don't qualify. It would be very easy for you to circumvent the cover story or forge her signature." Jack bristled and Hammond made a placating gesture. "Personally, I don't believe that you would do any such thing. However, the fact remains that that your signature on that document would throw up a red flag during any audit of this facility which would put the authenticity of all other documents in question."

There was silence between them as Hammond stared at Jack, his index finger tapping the blotter on his desk. He nodded to himself then patted the desk. "I will allow it on the condition that you have someone else with you to sign as witness to her signature. May I suggest you bring Dr. Jackson?"

That was do-able. Of all the people on base, Daniel was the only one Jack wouldn't mind coming with him on an errand like this. 

"Thank you, General." Jack smiled. The twitch was gone so he dropped his hands to his sides. "Now, I just have to see if he'll be willing to help."

"Oh, I have a feeling he will be," drawled Hammond. He tipped his head toward the window between his office and the briefing room. "He came up those stairs about two seconds after you."

Jack swiveled to look behind him. Through the star charts etched into the glass he could see Daniel lurking by the briefing table. Daniel's hands fidgeted in his pockets and he shifted his weight from foot to foot. When he realized that Jack and Hammond were both watching him, he feigned a sudden interest in the display monitor to one side of the room. Too bad it wasn't on. Stifling a grin, Jack shared an amused look with Hammond.

"Uh, sir, do you mind if...?" Jack waved toward Daniel who had craned his head backward and was raptly examining the light fixtures in the ceiling as though they held the mysteries of the universe.

"By all means. Better hurry before he pulls a muscle." The paternal fondness in Hammond's tone was a far cry from his initial hostility toward Daniel. Like most of the people Daniel met, it hadn't taken long for Hammond to warm up to him. 

Grabbing his coat, Jack opened the door, then paused with his hand on the knob. "Thank you, sir." He waited long enough for Hammond to nod in response then left, shutting the door behind him. 

Doing his best imitation of a guy who just happened to be standing there, Daniel said "Oh, hi!" waving at Jack as though he hadn't been loitering with intent. 

Without pausing, Jack flung an arm around Daniel's shoulders, pulling him along, though Jack had to let go when he hit the staircase and trotted down to the gate level. As they strode down the corridor toward Jack's office, he delivered a succinct outline of events to Daniel. 

Keyed up with the urge to act, but forced to remain idle, Jack paced his office while Daniel stood off to one side, out of his way. Where Jack was all kinetic motion, Daniel was a study in stillness, leaning back on the wall by the door, arms crossed over his chest and feet planted firmly on the concrete in that odd wide-legged stance of his. 

"So, will you go with-"

"Absolutely, Jack." Daniel nodded, his expression serious. "When are you going to meet her?"

Jack blew out a breath. "I have no idea. I haven't even talked to Sara yet, and I don't know when the paper pushers will have the disclosure docs ready." 

"While you were, ah, out, General Hammond talked to the Joint Chiefs. The briefcase brigade - Hammond's words, not mine - will be here sometime tomorrow with documents to start the process of collecting signatures." 

On his next pass by the desk, Jack snagged his empty mug, tossing it from hand to hand as he went around a few more laps. The repetitive motion bled off the excess energy which in turn helped him think. 

So, the non-disclosure agreement forms should be here sometime tomorrow which was Friday meaning it should be safe to set up a meeting for Saturday. Sara would be off work that day anyway so that should make it easier on her. But where to meet? 

Ask to meet at their- _her_ \- house and Sara might feel as if he was intruding, trying to push back in where he no longer belonged. Ask to meet at his house and she might feel uneasy in the strange surroundings. Best to pick something neutral. Someplace she knew, that was public enough for her to feel safe but private enough to allow them to speak confidentially. Jack knew just the place. 

Decision made, Jack put the mug down and sat on a corner of his desk. 

How does Saturday morning work for you?" 

"That works fine." Daniel nodded emphatically enough that his glasses slipped down his nose and he had to push them back in place. "Whenever you need me is fine." 

"I've got to write up my report before Hammond will let me leave tonight, but I'm going to call Sara first. I'll let you know for sure after I talk to her."

Daniel came close enough to lay his hand on Jack's arm. "If...if you need anything, anyone to talk to, I'm here." 

"If I need to, I will," Jack assured him, patting his hand in thanks. 

Daniel closed the door behind him as he left, saving Jack the trouble. He sat in his chair, taking a moment to clear his mind of everything except what he needed to say to Sara. Picking up the phone, he dialed the number he knew by heart since it used to be his, too. For some reason, he hadn't expected the answering machine to pick up and it threw him off balance. 

After the beep, he stammered then said, "Hi, Sara. It's me. Jack. O'Neill." Wincing, he tried to get back on track. "There's some paperwork you'll need to sign related to the incident today. My CO has given me permission to bring them to you and a friend of mine will come along as witness. "I thought we could all meet at the park by our- _your_ \- house Saturday morning at 8:30 at the picnic area. Please call to confirm." 

Jack left the numbers for his cell phone and home phone and the public number for the SGC that went to a special switchboard in the security office. As he hung up, he wondered if she really wasn't home and had missed the call or if she was standing by the phone, listening as he left the message, not wanting to pick up the handset and speak to him. Dismissing the thought as irrelevant as well as counter-productive, he turned on his computer and began his report. 

~~~~

Jack tossed his keys on the dining room table. TGIF, indeed. Too restless to eat, he grabbed a beer from the fridge and began prowling his house, telling himself for the umpteenth time that he needed to get a treadmill for times like this. Times when he needed to burn excess energy, but either couldn't or didn't want to leave the house for a run. 

He was staying in tonight because he had convinced himself that there was a chance, however faint and wildly improbable, that Sara might possibly perhaps want to call him before they met tomorrow. She had called the SGC today while he was in a meeting with, what had Hammond called them? Oh yeah - the briefcase brigade. The entire SGC was focused on damage control and revising systems and procedures. Jack's day, like Hammond's and pretty much everyone else's, had been completely consumed by meetings. Urgent meetings. Do not disturb meetings. 

So, Jack had missed Sara's call which sucked on many levels not the least of which was missing to chance to check on her, see how she was coping. Also, somewhere around two o'clock this morning Jack had popped out of a sound sleep, wide awake, as he realized that the park he had told her to meet him at was the same one she had gone to with the entity. He had been hoping to speak to her, find out if she wanted to move the meeting place. He didn't want to call her again, because he was already waiting for her to return the first call. He figured he'd speak to her when she _did_ call him. 

Then, he had come out of a meeting for a ten minute break and Walter had handed him a note. "Mrs. O'Neill called. Saturday is fine." Cursing under his breath at the timing, Jack stuck the note in his pocket and hurried off to the nearest rest room because, hey, coffee and long meetings don't always mix. In fact, Daniel had nearly sprinted out of the briefing room, making a beeline for the lavatory. 

Jack's mind kept wandering to Sara for the rest of the afternoon. Sara's message didn't need a response from him and he had no other reason to call her. One of the most frustrating things about being divorced was no longer having the right to check in with her. To see if she was okay. A spouse who kept calling was a pest. An ex who kept calling was a stalker. 

The first bottle went in the trash and Jack grabbed a second long-neck. He was feeling less antsy, but not ready for dinner yet. He headed into the den to try some TV, maybe catch the sports recap or see what was on ESPN. He sat in the recliner, beer in one hand, remote in the other as he flicked through the channels without really looking at the images. 

Instead he kept seeing the the video of that thing wearing _his_ face as it came through the gate with _his_ team. Those images kept alternating with the last form it had taken. The last face it had stolen. Charlie's face. 

Once they had gated to its planet, the entity hadn't changed as Jack had expected it to. It had stayed in the form of Charlie, a painful reminder of what he had lost. He wasn't sure why it had done that. It could have returned to its normal state, whatever that was. It could have morphed back into its Jack form, the one it had used to visit his ex-wife. His twin on the surface, but alien through and through. 

As long as it looked like Charlie - sweet, beautiful, dead Charlie- Jack's fear for Sara's safety and his anger at the usurper would stay contained, simmering under his skin. Maybe it knew better than to change. Maybe it knew that if it had shifted into any other form, Jack would have boiled over. He would have used fists and booted feet to pound it into submission, punishment for its transgressions. 

Instead, held by that much loved innocent face that wasn't his child, wasn't even _human_ , Jack talked to it. Listened to it. Jack couldn't see Charlie standing in front of him and not respond to some degree as though it was his son. It told him things Jack already knew about how he felt. Then it told him what it had said to Sara and what she had divulged in turn. 

Jack clicked of the TV and went to the stereo. Rifling through his classical CD's, he bypassed Copeland, Orff and other preferred recordings in favor of opera, though he hesitated between consumptive Mimi dying in Rodolfo's arms and steadfast Cio-Cio San waiting for her faithless Pinkerton. He set the Puccini back on the shelf with a decisive snap in favor of Delibes. Like many other operatic couples, Gerald and Lakme were ill-fated, but Jack had loved the score the moment he heard it. One of his most precious memories was of taking Sara to a production of _Lakme_ at the Metropolitan Opera in New York when they were first married. 

When Sara had introduced him to opera, Jack had taken to it immediately. Complex melodies intertwined beautifully into the sounds of first love, lost love, hopes, shattered dreams, joy, and heartbreak. He listened to it more often these days, not just because it reminded him of Sara, but because the rich music with its often somber undertones more closely matched his mood.

Turning the volume way up so that he could hear it throughout the house, Jack headed for the living room, beer in hand. A couple of weeks ago, Ferretti had talked about how he had wired his own house with extra speakers in different rooms. Maybe Jack should ask if Lou could show him how to do it. Lou had always been good like that. Jack sat in one corner of the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table, careful not to disturb the chess set. It was Daniel's turn to move. Maybe they'd get back to the game this weekend. 

Then again if Daniel got him alone, he'd want to talk. As much as Jack appreciated the guy, Daniel just didn't always get the whole macho stoic thing going on with the military. A lot of civilians had that problem at first. Sara had had to adjust to it, too. Every military spouse did. But just because she wasn't the only one trying to cope with the issue of a silent partner and classified subjects didn't make it any easier for Sara. Or for him. 

And it had been easy at first. The moment he met Sara, sparks flew and there had been a bond, a connection between them that had felt as natural as breathing. They were young, brimming over with love and wide eyed enthusiasm. They'd tumble into bed, sharing their hearts and minds as freely as they shared their bodies. They'd often talk long into the night about everything and nothing and all points in between. There was a lot of laughter then, the kind that leaves you breathless and exhilarated and wanting more.

Those were the days before Special Ops; before the constraints of secrecy had shackled his will and muzzled his tongue. At work Jack had to rein in his emotions. Keep a lid on them. At home there was so much he wasn't allowed to talk about that it became easier not to talk at all. Easier than analyzing every word before it left his mouth so he could excise anything remotely related to Special Ops. 

No matter where he was, it was _don't talk, don't feel, hold it back, keep it in_. John Donne was wrong. Jack was an island. Isolated and unapproachable. Cut off from everyone around him, including the one person he wanted to share with more than any other. His chest felt tight and his whole body ached with missing her. 

Floating down the hallway, Jack heard Sutherland's coloratura and Berbie's mezzo soprano wrapping around each other, blending seamlessly into the hauntingly ethereal Flower Duet. He'd been so caught up in his thoughts he had missed the beginning of Act I. 

He held his neglected beer bottle up to his forehead. It was cool and wet with condensation, making the pain in his head less insistent but his stomach felt like a clenched fist. Maybe later, he'd have some pasta. For now, he'd sit here and let the music take him away. 

Just another night at Casa O'Neill. 

~~~~ 

Saturday morning was clear and crisp with cloudless skies. Although Jack had initially chafed at the delay, in truth it had been for the best. Sure, he had some trepidation about meeting Sara in the aftermath of the incident, but the intervening day had given him the time he needed to regain his composure. Since he hadn't had a chance to talk to her, he had no idea how she might react today. With himself under control, he was set for optimal response to anything she might throw at him. She had always had a core of inner strength that helped her weather any storm, and God knew, this wasn't the worst thing that had ever happened to her.

Traffic was lighter than Jack had expected so he made good time on the way to Daniel's place. As Jack neared Daniel's apartment building, he could see his friend already outside waiting for him. He was puzzled to see that Daniel's hands were full and his laptop case was slung over his shoulder. Pulling up to the curb in front of Daniel, Jack unsnapped his seat belt then leaned over and cracked open the passenger door.

Daniel wedged the door open with an elbow then slid a knee in and opened it all the way. "Here. Take these."

He shoved a cardboard tray with three lidded cups of coffee at Jack, who grabbed it with both hands. The tray was made to hold four cups and the fourth indentation was filled with packets of sugar and creamer with thin red stirrers poking out of the jumbled pile. Daniel kept hold of a sizable paper bag, its top crushed into the curve of his fingers. Sliding the laptop onto the floor, Daniel climbed into the truck, tucking the bag between his knees. Once the door was shut and his belt fastened, he took the coffee from Jack and sat back, ready to go. 

Instead of putting the truck in gear, Jack pointed to the lumpy bag and tray of coffee. "Hungry?"

Daniel adjusted the position of the tray on his lap. "Well, I thought maybe it would be nice for you to bring a little something. Kind of an ice breaker or peace offering or whatever. I wasn't sure how Sara likes her coffee, so I got lots of cream and sugar and while I was there I thought Oh, those muffins look tasty, but I didn't know she what kind she might like so I got half a dozen. They're all different flavors, though, so you should be able to find one she likes."

As he babbled, Daniel smiled nervously, like he wasn't sure how Jack would react. Like maybe he was afraid he was overstepping his bounds, being presumptuous and Jack would slap him down for it. Put him in his place. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Jack was touched by Daniel's concern for him and his thoughtfulness for Sara.

Daniel took a breath as though the few seconds of silence was too much for him to bear and he was about to fill it again. Jack clasped Daniel's wrist to forestall the rush of words.

"Thank you, Daniel. I'm glad you thought of it," he said sincerely.

Daniel visibly relaxed, smiling happily at him. "You're welcome."

Checking the traffic as he put the truck into gear, Jack waited for a motorcycle to rumble past then pulled out. From here it was only about fifteen minutes to the park so they should be exactly on time. As he drove, Jack kept stealing glances at the shoulder bag on the floor between Daniel's feet, trying to figure out what role Daniel expected it to play. The documents were in a manila folder on the back seat so it couldn't be for that. Jack had even brought a couple of pens along going so far as to test them first to make sure they worked. What else could Daniel think they would need?

Giving up, he asked Daniel. "Okay. So now I know about the provisions. But what is your laptop for?"

"Um, well, I thought you might like to take some time alone. Maybe talk?" Daniel's voice went up in pitch, turning the statement into a question. He had gone right back into _overstepping- nervous_ mode. With his hands full with the tray, he couldn't tuck them under his arms the way he often did when he was upset or unsure of himself. The best Daniel could do was abbreviated gestures with thumb and forefinger.

"I can work on my laptop somewhere nearby, then you can just call me over when I need to witness Sara's signature. If it seems like you and Sara are really talking about - really discussing, um, things that, um, need discussing then I'll just go back to my apartment by myself and we can do the documents another day. I'll even bring them to her at her convenience. All she has to do is name the place and time."

Jack flipped on the blinker then turned into the main entrance of the park. "Daniel, I'm not going to make you walk home." Jack had brought Daniel here. It would be his responsibility to take Daniel back.

"Jack, we hike through uncharted wilderness for a living. I really think I can handle a five-mile stroll over paved sidewalks."

"Six miles," corrected Jack. "And you'll have your laptop bag."

"It's a hell of a lot lighter than my pack"

"That's because you don't have it stuffed full of books," he teased.

Sara's car came into view as they came up to the picnic area. There was a scattering of wooden picnic tables over a rolling landscape dotted with trees. The parking lot was mostly empty with only two other cars. Both of those where parked at the opposite end of the lot, closer to the tennis courts where a woman was practicing her backhand swing. Sara was already seated at a table under a large shade tree. Sitting on the table top with her feet resting on the bench, she watched Jack pull into a parking spot next to her vehicle. 

Jack tried to read her expression, but her face was carefully neutral so he looked to her clothes for some clue as to her emotional state. She had dressed nicely but appropriately in jeans, loafers and a jean jacket over a solid color shirt. He had always liked that shade of deep rose pink on her and wondered if that was why she had worn it. He hoped it was.

"Whether I walk home or ride is far less important than your chance to reestablish a dialogue with your wife. I mean it, Jack."

Daniel's jaw was clenched in that stubborn way Jack had come to both dread and admire, though he wasn't sure which feeling was foremost at the moment. It occurred to him that Daniel had never once referred to Sara as Jack's ex. It was always _Sara_ or _your wife_.

Maybe to a man in Daniel's situation, a wife-even an ex wife-that you could reach out and touch, talk to, was precious. Things like the death of a child or divorce weren't the _end_ of the road, but _bumps_ on it. Obstacles to be maneuvered around with care until the road could be regained.

Daniel's wife had been snatched away from him without warning. She spent every minute of every day being raped in mind and body by the parasites that held her. Daniel would probably sell his soul for the opportunity to see her, talk to her, just one more time. And here was Jack, hesitating over walking thirty feet to speak to the woman waiting for him. 

His eyes still on Sara, Jack nodded. "You have a point, Daniel," he said quietly. "A very good point." He looked at Daniel. "We'll do it your way."

It took a bit of juggling, but soon they were both outside the truck. Jack had the tray with two coffees and most of the condiments in one hand and the folder with the non-disclosure agreement tucked under that same arm. He stuffed his keys in his pocket as he reached for the bag of muffins. One-handed he, let the top fall open and tilted it toward Daniel. 

"Go ahead and grab a couple. You certainly got enough."

Daniel shook his head. "What if I take the only one she likes? If there are any left later, maybe I'll have one."

Jack plopped the bag onto the tray to free his hand up for rummaging. Peeking into it, he could see at least three that Sara would like, and one that Daniel usually got for himself. 

"Here." Jack handed him one of the muffins. "Take this one. You love these. Aht! Just take it."

Daniel took it reluctantly, though Jack had heard his stomach growl on the drive over.

"I'll be right over there." Jerking his thumb over his shoulder, Daniel pointed to a table about fifty feet away - too far to overhear but within easy hailing distance.

As he watched Daniel walk away, the butterflies started up in Jack's stomach. It was funny - with every step Daniel took away from him, the butterflies fluttered that much more strongly and it suddenly occurred to him how much he had come to rely on his friend's support in such a short time. Maybe he would have realized it sooner if it hadn't been so long since he had had a friend a close as Daniel. Looking back, Jack could see that over the years he had gradually isolated himself from everyone, not just Sara. It was amazing how quickly Daniel had wormed through his defenses.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Jack pasted a pleasant smile on his face and went to her. The long walk across the open space made him feel uncomfortable. He didn't want to stare at her the whole way, that could be construed as a hostile action on his part and make her feel uneasy, but he was heading right toward her, so where else was he supposed to look? 

The coffee sloshed inside the cups as he stepped into a dip in the ground giving him an excuse to look down. He busied himself with making sure the coffee and packets stayed put, keeping his eyes on the items in his hands until he was a few feet from the table where Sara sat.

There was an awkward moment where he went to put the food and drinks down on the table, but she thought he was handing them to her and reached for them, so he changed direction to give them to her, but she had already put her hands back down to rest on her thighs so he set them on the table after all. Jesus. Talk about clumsy. He hadn't been this uncoordinated even as a teen. Sara's mouth pulled back as a humorless smile flashed across her face, acknowledging the awkwardness.

"And now for my next trick," muttered Jack sarcastically, taking refuge behind self-deprecating humor. 

This time a true smile lit up Sara's face as she laughed. "Thank you for bringing this." She picked at the cuff of her jacket as though unsure what to do with her hands. "Frankly, I was too nervous about seeing you this morning to have anything before I left the house."

Jack popped the lid off of one of the coffees then picked up three packs of sugar and two creamers. Lining up the top edge of the packets, he tore them all open at once and dumped them in.

"They're from Daniel, actually. He wasn't sure what you might like, so he got one of everything. If you have a hankering for cranberry orange, just let me know and I'll wrestle it away from him."

Stirring the coffee a few times, he put the top back on and handed it to Sara, then opened the other cup and picked up one packet of sugar and one creamer and fixed his own coffee. 

"He was there, wasn't he? At the hospital, I mean." She sipped the coffee, then opened the bag of muffins. 

"Yeah. He's part of my team."

"He doesn't look like one of your usual team members." She chose the banana nut muffin as he had expected then handed him the blueberry, his favorite.

Jack smiled. "There's nothing usual about Daniel."

"Unless they've drastically changed the regs about hair, I take it that he's a civilian?" Sara found the napkins, put one on her knee and handed one to him. "How did a civilian get to be on the teams?

"It's kind of a special position." Pushing the food out of the way, Jack sat on the table next to Sara.

"What's he like?"

"Remember Lieutenant Shroyer from when we were stationed at Rammstein?"

"He was the history buff, right?" 

An errant breeze flipped one of the empty sugar packets across Sara's lap. She picked up that one and the other used ones and put them in the tray, weighting them down with the unopened packets.

"Yeah. Add in a smidge of your friend Helen in Minot who owned that bookstore and toss in a big helping of your cousin Ricky and that's Daniel." He shrugged one shoulder and waggled his hand. "Kind of." 

Sara picked at the sweet crust on the muffin and nibbled it gracefully. "So, Daniel is a book-loving intellectual history buff who is charming and athletic?"

"Pretty much. He's also a certified genius and has three doctorate degrees. Daniel's hard to describe. He really needs to be experienced first hand." 

A quick glance showed Daniel sitting side-on to Jack and Sara. Apparently, he hadn't wanted to sit on the side of the table that would put him facing them, but didn't want to have his back to them either. Instead, Daniel straddled the bench on the far side of the table, with his laptop on the bench between his knees. His coffee cup was on the table, but he must have eaten the muffin already and thank heavens Daniel had picked up the provisions. The food had given Jack and Sara something to do with their hands and started small talk. Jack felt more at ease and Sara had relaxed as well thanks to the tasty treats.

"And he's on your team now?"

"Yep." 

Finished with the first muffin, Jack reached in for the apple cinnamon he had seen earlier. The slam of a car door and laughing voices signaled more people arriving as the park steadily filled.

"Your deep space telemetry team." Sara lifted two fingers off of her coffee cup to put air quotes around the team name. She also gave him the same disbelieving _you have got to be kidding me_ face that she had when he had first told her about his cover assignment to Cheyenne Mountain.

"You _know_ how much I love astronomy and all things spacey." He grinned at her and took a big bite of muffin.

Sara shook her head. "When will the military ever learn to come up with plausible cover stories?"

Jack snorted. "Never. Calls for too much imagination." He held up the folder with the non-disclosure documents. "Speaking of wildly implausible cover stories."

It wasn't the smoothest transition he had ever come up with but it was pretty good under the circumstances. There was something he wanted to say to her before they got down to business. He wasn't sure how anxious she was to get away from him so he better say it now while he could.

"Thank you for coming to meet me today."

She shrugged. "Well, I've been - I _was_ \- a military wife long enough to know I'd have to sign these sometime."

There was a tiny resurgence of the fluttering in his stomach. "I meant, thank you for coming, even though it was me you had to meet. Especially after..." he trailed off, not sure how to characterize the incident.

Sara put her hand on his wrist. "I'm confused and upset. I want explanations that I know I'll never get and that you can't give me, but I will always come when you ask me to."

Warmth chased away the fluttering. Jack put his hand over hers, slid his palm around to meet her palm, holding her hand in his. His other hand cupped her cheek, his fingertips stroking her hairline. Her face was soft against his calloused skin. God, he missed this. Missed her.

"I don't deserve you," he murmured, "and you deserve better than me."

"Stop it." She moved her head back, out of his hand, a flash of irritation in her eyes. "That's not true. When you came to the hospital to get that...person...that impostor, you said you had a pretty good idea what he had said."

Jack knew where this was going. Knew what argument was coming. It was like watching a movie he had seen so often he could recite the lines along with the actors and the minute it started, he knew exactly who would say what and what would happen. There would be no surprises as the story unfolded exactly as it had every single time. The same hurts and accusations would be lobbed by Sara or by him, the same defensiveness held up in reply until finally Jack withdrew into himself. 

Like any well-worn argument between couples, they could skip the preliminaries and jump straight to the heated center of it. Old patterns of behavior clicked back into place and Jack froze, unable to respond. 

"Well? Do you?" 

Apparently Sara was falling back into old patterns, too. That was the same anger and frustration that had characterized her attempts to communicate with him starting in the months after Charlie's death, when Jack had withdrawn completely. 

Finding his voice was like trying to open a door after the hinges had rusted shut. Something that should have been easy, should have been something he could do without thinking, needed a great deal of effort. He knew exactly what the entity had said, and it was everything that Jack should have said years before but couldn't. He thought of all the sleepless nights spent rehearsing the words he wanted to say to Sara only to be stricken dumb the moment he saw her. He thought of the entity, acting as Jack's proxy on the first step to a reconcilement with Sara. The words were already out there, Jack just had to say them himself, but his jaw was clamped shut.

Then he thought of Daniel, willing to brave death on alien worlds for the chance to find Sha're. Compared to that, what was so difficult about Jack opening up his heart to the woman he loved? It was like shoving with all his might on that rusty door only to have it crack open less than an inch. A heavy weight settled on his chest, making it hard to catch his breath. His throat muscles tensed up against it, but Jack managed to push some words out, his voice raspy.

"I failed in every way I possibly could. I failed Charlie as a father. I failed you as a husband." His throat tried to close up and his eyes felt hot. "I couldn't - I couldn't even do my job anymore so I failed as an officer. I don't blame you for hating me." 

"I don't hate you, Jack." Sara's eyes were getting pink. "I never hated you. Yes, I was angry. I even blamed you for a while because it was your gun that Charlie - that he-" she stumbled over the words, "that he killed himself with. But I never hated you and I never stopped loving you."

She sniffled and he automatically wrapped his arms around her, one hand splayed across her back, the other cupping the back of her head as it nestled into his shoulder. He wanted to make it better, make her stop hurting. 

"I miss you," he whispered. 

The words came more easily now. Sitting next to each other as they were, they had to twist to maintain the embrace. Jack's lower back was a uncomfortable, but he wouldn't let go for the world. His body molded to hers the way it always had, the way that he loved. 

Sara's arms squeezed more tightly around him and she pressed against him. "I miss you too."

"We were good together once."

Silken strands of her hair slid softly across his face. She was still using the same shampoo that he remembered. He inhaled deeply, filling his senses with everything about her so he could keep this memory fresh in his mind, in case it was the last time he ever got to hold her.

"The best," she said wistfully.

Jack shifted slightly so he could see her face. "Do...do you think we could be again? Maybe?"

"Maybe we could." Sara wiped at her eyes. "But only if you're willing to work with me. I can't take that silent aloof guy anymore."

Jack opened their embrace, put more space between them, so that he could get her one of the napkins for her runny eyes and nose. Neither of them broke the embrace completely, though. They still touched, still held each other, needing the physical connection to help them through this. She had one arm around his waist, while his arm lay across her shoulders. 

"I know you can't give me details about what you do, but you stopped sharing what you could have. Then you stopped talking about normal things, unclassified things. You pulled away from me." Sara dabbed at her nose with a napkin. "It's like being at a banquet. When we first got together, I was right there at the table with you. As time went on, I got pushed farther aside until I wasn't allowed at the table at all. I was like a mouse snatching whatever crumbs I could get from you.

"As time went on the crumbs became fewer and fewer so each one, each little moment with you, had to last me longer and longer. You'd toss me a little something here and a little there but it wasn't enough to live on anymore. I want to be back at the table with you. I want to be partners again."

Jack skimmed the pad of his thumb across her cheek, wiping away the wetness. Sara's eyes were red rimmed and her skin mottled pink with emotion. They'd had so many versions of this argument before that it felt as familiar to Jack as being with Sara did. 

"What I'm doing now is even more hush-hush than anything else I've done before," he warned her. "It's also more dangerous. More unpredictable." 

"You can still tell me how you're feeling. If something happens on a mission that upsets you, I know you can't tell me _what_ happened, but you can still me that you're upset. Don't make me try to _guess_ why you're not talking to me. _Again_." Sara wadded up the napkin and stuffed it in her jacket pocket. "Don't make me crazy trying to figure out if it is something from the job or if it's something I've done or something else entirely." 

Maybe this time he was listening better. Maybe he was trying to understand instead of tuning out the second he heard the same old argument. Maybe it was because after more than a year of sitting alone night after night in his empty house the reality of just what his actions had cost him had long since set in. Whatever it was, Jack heard her this time and said what he should have long ago. He said it not to pacify her, but because he meant it. 

Jack took her hands in his. Tried to convey that he spoke from the heart. "I'm sorry I drew away from you. I'm sorry that I took things out on you."

"Then stop. I'm your wife, not your whipping boy. I'll help you, support, comfort you - do whatever you need, but you have to talk to me first. Tell me what you need. And I need you to do the same for me. Marriage isn't a 50-50 partnership. It's 100% from both parties all the time."

He smiled at her. "That sounds like something from a book."

"From a counselor actually. I've been seeing one for a few months now." Sara took a deep breath and he could see her tense up. "I'd like you to come with me sometimes."

Jack grimaced. He didn't want anybody inside his head but him, especially some condescending prick with a fancy piece of paper that thought he knew everything. Jack had deeply resented being ordered to attend sessions after his return from Iraq. No pansy-assed shrink with middle-aged spread from lounging safely in an office could ever understand what it had been like for Jack and he was damned if he would open up his pain for some pretentious civilian to gawk at.

"I know, Jack." Sara gripped his hands firmly. "I know how you feel about them. How about you come at least once, not for yourself but for me? You don't even have to say anything if you don't want to. Just be there for me. Be there when I need you." 

Sara's face was full of strength and determination. Jack was the soldier, the hard-charging military man, but in many ways Sara was stronger than him. She always had been. It was one of the things that had drawn him to her to begin with. He had come to take that resilience for granted, leaving her to cope on her own with whatever came up. He was just starting to realize what a selfish bastard he had become. All she was asking for was his presence. Surely he could do that for her when he owed her so much more? Maybe while he was there, he might even listen. Maybe.

"Okay," He grudgingly agreed, then raised one of her hands to his mouth and kissed the back of it. "I'll do this for you. Just tell me when and where but the caveat is that my schedule-"

"I know. A two day op turns into three. Three days turns into a week. I remember. Just promise me that you'll make a concerted effort."

"I promise. And I'd...I'd like for us to talk sometimes by ourselves. Just the two of us. I know we have some things to work out first but maybe..."

He couldn't quite finish the thought. It might be too soon. What if he told her today that he wanted to reconcile, but she wasn't ready for that right now? What if she wasn't looking for anything more than rekindling their friendship? She might dismiss the idea of getting back together out of hand now and then later, when she might have been ready, she would already have moved on. Superstitious as it was, he feared that naming his desire, speaking it out loud, would jinx it and he'd never achieve it.

Luckily, Sara answered the unspoken question. She was hesitant, choosing her words carefully, though whether it was because she wasn't sure how to express herself or whether she had the same fears he did, he couldn't tell.

"I want talk to you. I do miss you but I don't want to leap into anything. I think we need to go slowly. Make sure we do this right. Make sure this _is_ right. But yes, I want to see you again." 

"Great. How about tomorrow?" 

Jack raised an eyebrow and acted as though he was kidding, but inside he wished she'd say yes. A pang of disappointment hit him as she shook her head. 

"I need time to process everything that's happened. You've got to understand how overwhelming this has been and I haven't even heard whatever cock and bull story the government came up with to explain that man or what happened at the hospital." She looked at the busy park. "How about here again next Saturday. Same time. I'll bring breakfast." 

"That would be great." A warm rush of happiness and relief flowed through Jack. He felt lighter and couldn't help grinning at her. 

After a few moments she prompted him. "So, that official fabrication our government wants us to swallow? Was it a training exercise? Weather balloons? Smoke and mirrors?" 

Jack picked up the folder with the documents, flipped it open and read through the first page. "Apparently, an electrical transformer at the hospital malfunctioned, affecting some tanks of various anesthetic gasses in a nearby storeroom and the resultant release of high levels of an unusual mixture of gasses caused mass hallucinations." He put the folder on the table. "Christ on a cracker. Who do they think is going to believe this crap?" 

"Not me, but I'll sign the papers and spout the party line in public like a good citizen." Sara put out her hand. "Do you have a pen?" 

Jack unclipped one of the pens stashed in his shirt pocket, then looked over at Daniel's table only to find it empty. 

"That little shit," grumbled Jack. 

Startled, Sara sat back. "What?" 

"Oh, not you! Daniel." Jack pointed to the table where he had left Daniel. A family of five was descending upon it fully laden with coolers, portable grill, and some outdoor sports equipment. "I think he's nobly slinking off into the sunset. He, ah, said that if it looked as if we were getting personal, he would walk home and you could sign the papers later." 

Sara raised her eyebrows, then looked thoughtful. "Muffins. Coffee. Strategic retreat. He's a good friend." 

"The best. Next week, I'll tell you what I can of how we met. Now, if you'll excuse me a moment..." A couple of hundred feet away at the other side of the park, Jack had seen a flash of movement that was about the right size and shape for Daniel. Cupping his hands around his mouth, Jack let out his best battlefield bellow, a sound normally pitched to carry over the noise of weapons fire. "DANIEL!" 

Everyone in the park came to an abrupt halt and turned to stare at Jack. He didn't care as long as he had gotten the right person's attention. Ah, good. It seemed as though he had. Daniel peeked out from behind a tree and Jack waved him over. In the few minutes it took for him to arrive, Daniel's shoulders began to hunch up defensively as he realized that half of the people in the park were gaping at him. By the time he got to Jack and Sara, there was a faint pink flush on his face from self-consciousness. 

Jack performed the introductions. "Sara, this is Daniel. Daniel, Sara." 

"It's a pleasure to meet you Daniel." Sara offered her hand for Daniel to shake. "Thank you for breakfast. That was very sweet of you." 

"Oh, you're quite welcome." Daniel's smile was sincere. "It's nice to finally meet you after hearing Jack talk about you." 

"Oh?" 

Sara darted an inquiring glance at him and it was Jack's turn to feel self-conscious. 

"So," he said with a fake cheerfulness, "how about these documents, huh?" 

Jack spread the folder out on the table, then plucked the signature page from the bottom of the stack of papers clipped together. Sara was still holding the pen he had given her earlier so Jack gave the other pen to Daniel. Sara signed first, a big swooping signature that Jack knew as well as his own. Daniel dutifully witnessed the document, his signature somewhat more legible than Sara's. Jack tucked the page back into place, took back his pens, then started gathering up the trash and leftover muffins. 

"Well," said Jack, "I guess we'll be-" 

"You know," interjected Daniel, "it's such a beautiful day out, it would be a shame to-"

"Daniel." 

"-waste it. I think I'll go for a walk- " 

"Daniel." 

"-so take your time here because-" 

"Daniel!" 

Silenced, Daniel blinked myopically at Jack who looked back at him with fond amusement. Bless his near-sighted little heart, it seemed that Daniel was bound and determined to put him and Sara together. There could have been hail the size of golf balls, hurricane force winds, and flaming meteorites crashing down around them and Daniel would have said the same thing. 

"It's okay, Daniel. Sara and I are going to meet again next week." 

Jack was certain the relief on Daniel's face had nothing do with not having a long walk home after all, but was on Jack's behalf. 

"In that case," said Daniel, "I'm ready to go if you are." 

Jack put the folder under his arm, carrying the bag of leftover muffins in one hand and the cardboard tray with the trash and half empty coffee cups in the other. With his hands occupied, Jack couldn't give Sara a goodbye hug like he wanted to, and he thought a kiss, even a peck on the cheek might be too presumptuous at this stage. 

To his good fortune, Sara stepped forward and gave him a hug. He kept his hands away from her body so nothing spilled or got on her clothes, but he did try to pull in his elbows to hold her. Eyes closed, he rubbed his cheek against hers, then risked that peck. Sara returned it with a peck on his lips, then stepped away. 

There was a light in her eyes just for him as she used one of their catchphrases, taken from an old television show. "Same bat time, same bat channel." 

"I'll see you there, baby." 

The endearment slipped out without him meaning to say it, but Sara didn't seem to mind. In fact, she smiled just a little brighter. She nodded goodbye to Daniel then went to her car. Watching her go, Jack felt as though he had stepped into the sunshine after long years in shadow. He wanted to race around the park, whooping with glee, but managed to contain himself. He and Daniel walked back to his truck, taking a slight detour to make use of a nearby trash can. 

"You know, Daniel, you were right," said Jack as he dumped the garbage into the can. It would be too undignified to give into the urge for a victory lap, so now that he had a hand free Jack used up some of that energy ruffling Daniel's hair. 

"Right about...?" Unperturbed, Daniel smoothed his hair back into place. 

"It is a beautiful day." 

And Jack could hardly wait to see what next Saturday would bring.

 

Finis


End file.
